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Mr. Miyagi

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Great! I’m glad you made it back. -Really sorry for the downtime. At least we know who to blame.-

Whaddya say we take a break from perusing those Kraigs-lizt “original” 57’ Leo Strats. You know – the ones with the infamous Chinese lead paint brushed on just last week by ‘Sum Guy.’ The stuff the neighbor kid “Devin from Heaven” chewed off his Thomas the Train? You know the stuff.

And don’t bother checkin’ out that “original” Louis Vuitton purse online. I’m reasonably certain that particular bag, and 18 other identicals, were pieced together from a pair of Delta Burke Collection pleather pants.

Oh no, my friend. I’m not like other “authentic” deals sold online or by a guy wearing a sky blue leisure suit: I am the real deal. I am a simple titanium wedding band that has witnessed legions more than these imposters. But I’ll spare you my full story which, once Jay Leno airs this ad, will undoubtedly be signed as a made-for-TV movie by the Lifetime network. It will air next fall entitled, “When Bridezilla’s Attack.” That is, as long as they don’t cast that gaudy TV bling-tastrophe from Jared to play Me. No Deal. Every kiss may begin with Kay, but I will have some say over who plays moi. Like I said, I am no imposter, Even Evander calls me; “The Real Deal!” I comprehend, have witnessed, and overcome, so I will now impart a few marital words of wisdom, peppered with subtle cautions. Then, let the bidding wars begin.

****Winner of this auction will receive: 1) Janie, the size 11 titanium wedding band with certificate of authenticity on Janie. 2) Emails, paperwork, etc, proving validity to the exact truth of this auction and details therein. 3) Various pictures of both individuals listed in this auction. 4) The only remaining piece of his wrecked truck. 4) The first two drafts of "Janie", as well as Whatever else I find laying around. THAT is what is contained in the auction.****

Now, on to the auction. My name is Janie. I was taken out of my generic grey, velvet-lined jewelry case on November 12th, 2004 in some “charming” (see also: po-dunk) town in Arizona. Unfamiliar with my circumstances, I met two of the oddest individuals in known existence. The first was the one who paraded me on his left hand. Everyone just called him Buzzz. Like Prince, Cher or Will.I.Am, never a last name. Just Buzzz. (Yeah, three Z’s.)

Then I met her. Let’s call her Satannn, shall we? (Why not three N’s? It keeps things symmetrical.) Once she had her claws in Buzzz, she was like the scientists standing over the 6 million dollar man. She held the plan. “She had the technology. She could rebuild him.” You know, like The Stepford Wives, but with testicles and ample earning potential.

And so, as all good Lifetime, made-for-TV movies go, she would send him through a virtual cornucopia of trials and hardship, until he experienced every pain that human life had to offer. Like a muscle; break it down to build it up. Her design was simple, with a twist of lime; never give one single ounce of positive reinforcement until he had fully passed the tests of her Underworld. (I would have mentioned philandering underpants…if she had ever WORN any…Nope. Fresh outta those. Evidently they ‘cramped her style’? Or maybe just a county easement issue?)

So, without further residue, we thank Satannn herself for the following list of marital Dos and Don’ts. We’d tell you where to send your Thank You notes, but if you locate her, will you let us know? It’s more than the church or the federal government can manage at this point.

As a new wife, you should:

- Allow your husband to wear the suit you chose for him on your wedding day.

You should not:

- Freak out two days before the ceremony in disapproval of the suit you chose, then mandate he get a new one NOW! Forcing him to custom order one from New York City, have it fully tailored in NYC, then Next-Day-Air it to some unheard-of hotel in Snowflake, AZ. Frankly, the less he spends on the second tux, the more he can spend on you on your honeymoon. Seems simple enough, right? Whatever! …Sigh… (I wish I was out of my box to see this. I would have sounded the warning whistle louder than Bubb Rubb and Lil Sis driving through your living room.)

You should:

- Bask in the glow of the luxurious 17-day Hawaiian vacation and 13 day cruise.

You should not:

- Tell him how if you had married your brother, your dad, or a ‘real man,’ the honeymoon would have been right. *Shudder.* Now that’s just creepy. Even Warren Jeffs is still shivering in the corner over that one.

You should:

- Thank your lucky stars that you married a man who willingly sold his hand-restored LaveyCraft race boat and paid off your hidden $10K+ credit card debt in the second month of the marriage. Yeah, the tab which included the balance of your aftermarket lumpy chesticles.

You should not:

- Force him to live with, and legally adopt your cat…to which he’s deathly allergic, then laugh to your friends in e-mails about how you make the cat sleep on his face, or open his drawers so she sleeps on his clothes.

You should:

- Be grateful when he embraces the cat, works around the allergies, and even buys a gigonormous Kitty Condo for her.

You should not:

- Have your City of Phoenix Internal Affairs detective brother hire a crew, help you break into his home, after you move out, and steal said Kitty Condo, among many, MANY other things, including all his business papers, taxes, every single kitchen utensil and even his underwear. That is just wrong! (Come to think of it, Hey Lifetime TV, we’ve got live surveillance camera footage you can use for the actual movie! Strangely, the cops didn’t want to investigate. Hmmm, justice indeed.)

You should:

- Be excited to live in the brand-new, custom home he built just a year prior to the marriage.

You should not:

- Perjure yourself by claiming in legal documents that you ‘acquired the home during the marriage.’ Let’s be real. Especially if the whole world knew how vehemently you despised the ‘ill-designed’ pantry and insufficient ‘laundry cave’. You would actually have to do laundry to know what the cave was like!

- Or tell him that when he turns his back you will burn the house and the garage down and laugh as you watch the flames ascending. (Did your parents put you to sleep as a child by a betamax copy of “The burning bed”?)

You should:

- Let the truth about your health history be known to your spouse, and stay on your prescribed medications…if you have any mercy in your alleged soul.

You should not:

- Discontinue your antidepressant/mood stabilizer cocktails just before the wedding, and bury the knowledge of your violent Bipolar and Histrionic Personality Disorders down deep, like the late family hamster in a shoebox eight inches deep in the back yard.

You should:

- Thoroughly enjoy being pampered with a brand-new, custom ordered SUV, four months into the marriage. Oh. That you hand-picked, by the way.

You should not:

- Pitch a fit when the title does not say ‘or.’ Then demand it immediately changed to read “Trac* Web* Mille* OR Buzzz Miller”, turn around, sign his name off the title and never once declare it marital property in your pre-planned divorce.

You should:

- Request money from him, informing him of what household need the money was to be used for.

You should not:

- Take the IRS refund check off his desk, forge his name on the back, cash it and blow the money like a powerball winner. Then lie about the check; “I can’t believe you are so stupid that you lost it!” Sweetheart, he has the actual check, two independent handwriting professionals testimonies, video surveillance, as well as a bank tellers witness. Your denial has become a bigger catch-all than the front of Bill Clintons’ shirt at an all-you-can-eat nacho blowout.

You should not:

- Tell your hubby that the doctors’ bills are more than twice what they really are, then take the overpayment checks written out to him and cash them for drug money.

You should:

- Pray that things will work out and you can be happy.

You should not:

- Tell him after the race that you prayed as hard as you could that his racecar would crash, catch on fire and that he would die in the fiery aftermath.

You should:

- Communicate your frustrations in words. You know. Like even quasi-mentally-healthy people do.

You should not:

- Wrap his dream truck, the beloved lowered white Duramax Dually, around a bright yellow pole in a wide open parking lot under the thick cover of the midday Arizona sun.

Maybe you should even steer away from:

- Telling your patient, non-violent husband, “I would rather be beat by my other husbands than be married to you.” And; “Get it through your head, I don’t like you!” (I have seen less red flags waving in the “Behind the Iron Curtin – Hammer and Sickle” festival.)

Oh, and while we’re on the subject, it may be frowned upon if you:

- Email your boyfriend on your 18 month anniversary about how your hubby’s “going to be paying quite a bit for quite a while. [The lawyer’s wife] is looking into what I can get out of this. Things like compensation for the last 4 years of my life wasted on him. Lying and deceit upon marriage, Etc…”

- E-mail and picture message your naked pictures to various other men.

- Email the same boyfriend documentation of your present prescription drug abuse that would make even Keith Richards blush.

- Demand dining out five times a week, watching the latest movies before even Roger Ebert, spend money like a Trump, throw fits like a Kardashian, steal from him like Prometheus, show the respect of Manson.

- Forbid his brother from attending the wedding ceremony.

- Lie to his family about your husband’s behavior. Yeah, they were all in the room, hearing you scream the actual truth on the cell phone. Yes princess, speaker phones work wonders.

- Or how about the time you called him on the phone on your way down to Tucson, then put the phone down, forgetting to hang it up and told your passenger for the next 20 minutes about how awful your husband was. Yes, we both heard your stories loud and clear. We will just set that in the ‘no-no’ list.

- Lie to his friends and fellow church-goers. Newsflash. He still lives in his home and has to attend the Church of Ashes you left him with.

- Crank the amp to 11 by telling his religious leaders of his ‘addiction to Devil music,’ including but not limited to Boston, Queen, Paul Gilbert and Metallica. (C’mon here. He is God fearing, not Amish!)

- Slander his name and reputation to the Cub and Boy Scouts of America organizations, disqualifying him from further service in both organizations.

- Tell people that he takes razor blades and carves your name into his arms and legs. Are you too stupid or just too drugged up to know how easy this is to prove? This one doesn't take Sherlock Holmes. Larry Holmes can figure that one!

If you enjoy having a husband with an income, it might behoove you to not:

- Go the the homes of his best client’s, smearing your lies to their wives, causing them to stop doing business with him. Let’s think of where those paychecks come from, Toots.

- Force him to part-and-parcel off his entire racing career, a huge advertising tool gathering more than half of his yearly income. A car to Peoria, a rear end to Australia, an engine to St. Louis, another to Glendale and one more to Kentucky, wheels to Chicago, and his soul to God-Knows-Where.

You should:

- Exhibit some basic human sympathy when his two pets die within two months of each other.

You should not:

- Kill them. ‘Nuf said.

- Oh. Or hysterically laugh for two solid hours when the first dies. Usually a dead give-away of the culprit’s identity.

You should:

- Allow your husband the courtesy of using his home for the purpose for which, it was built.

You should not:

- Force him to sleep on the den floor on a foam pad he borrowed from a friend’s garage with a duct taped moving blanket for cover.

You should:

- Take out your aggressions at, say, a kickboxing class or a Tae-Bo video, perhaps. Or, perhaps, get a job.

You should not:

- Stamp with both feet at the sight of his spinal fusion neurosurgery and mumble; “Maybe if you were crippled you would listen to me.”

You should:

- Communicate your desires and expectations.

You should not:

- Brag about the 18 years you spent chasing one-night stands at dance clubs and describe, in gory detail, what each one of those, ahem, ‘encounters’ were like, and how they made you feel so sexy.

You should:

- Discuss fertility concerns with your spouse.

You should not:

- Steal his money and secretly undergo fertility treatments, then email your boyfriend, Steve, “I desperately want to have a baby. I just really want one . . .With or without Buzzz I will have a baby.” (Hey, what did you do the time you called from SLC, when you thought you were pregnant? Did you have it?)

You should:

- Go to church, as you professed you would.

You should not:

- Be seen dating other guys…especially by your husband’s fellow church-goers.

You should:

- Stay home from church when you are simply too sick to attend.

You should not:

- Stay home and engage in activities that leave you smelling like a marathon hockey practice, wearing a porno schoolgirl outfit, no underwear, with hair and slutty make-up slurred around as if grecko-roman wrestling as on the day’s activities, with the sheets ripped of the master bed, and the house pretty much total stench and disarray.

You should:

- Take an interest in your spouse’s well being.

You should not:

- Spike his milk with 28 tablets of amphetamine salts and methylphenidates…drugs that previously caused him cardiac arrest. Heck, even hanging around to call 911 after you watch him fall to the earth with no pulse or breath might be semi-merciful. Raising your hands into the air and declaring; “Finally!” was not what I had in mind.

And last and certainly not least, if, after all this you tell your husband he will never find another person that loves him like you do, and he replies;

“If I ever see anyone in my life ever love me like you do, ever treat me like you do, I will run. I will run as fast as I can, as far as I can with as much strength as I can possibly muster. I will run until my lungs burn and begin to bleed. I will run. I WILL RUN. I don’t know anyone on this earth evil enough to love me like you do or treat me like you do. But if I do, I will run.”

You should believe him!

So here are my thoughts. I have decided to sacrifice myself on the auction block to make just enough money for him to go on a few meaningful dates with women more stable than you. You know, like Squeaky Fromme or Lorena Bobbitt.

****Again, I will clarify. Winner of said auction will get Janie, ‘The Real Deal. But wait, there’s more. High bidder also gets draft one and draft two of this advertisement, with 13 pages of bonus material that you do not want to miss. High bidder also gets certain e-mails to verify all the validity of stated points, color glossy pictures and I will even throw in other stuff as requested, or just as it comes up. But the main portion of the auction is Janie, and her certificate of authenticity. ****

You will not be disappointed! So please, bid accordingly. I may look simple, boring or plain. But I am the REAL DEAL, baby!...which is more than we can say for Delta Burke’s Louis Vuitton.

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Sounds like an ex of mine..... but why didn't he get out sooner? Before the wedding would have been ideal, there were enough warning signs

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  • 146 Brexit, House prices and Summer 2020

    1. 1. Including the effects Brexit, where do you think average UK house prices will be relative to now in June 2020?


      • down 5% +
      • down 2.5%
      • Even
      • up 2.5%
      • up 5%



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